


A Second Time for Everything

by SpaMightWrite



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Sex, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2645909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaMightWrite/pseuds/SpaMightWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raehex once suggested the following prompt to me: “first time dean bottoms to seth vs first time dean bottoms to roman. i imagine the difference is wonderful.” This is now her birthday present. Happy birthday, beautiful, here is your wrestler porn.</p><p>Not much of a plot, really, just a pair of ficlets.</p><p>And yes there is an in-joke in the title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raehex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raehex/gifts).



> Part one, posted early. Happy early birthdaaaaayyyy

“I don't fuckin' bottom,” Dean growled into the air.

The both of them were stripped down to just their boxers, entangled on the hotel bed on top of the covers, furiously groping each other and laying hard kisses and loving bites wherever their mouths could reach. They'd barely put down their suitcases before Dean had wrapped his arms around Seth's waist and dumped him onto the bed, shoving his tongue down Seth's throat and ripping off both of their shirts. Hot breaths were exchanged, shoes fumbled off to the floor, pants unbuttoned and removed.

In between attacks of Dean's lips, Seth had moaned a question. “Can we try something?”

“Yeah, try shutting up and keep kissing me,” Dean had growled in answer.

“No,” Seth had held Dean at bay with a hand on each shoulder, sending a frustrated twitch to the big man's cock. “Something we haven't done yet.”

“All right, what?”

“I wanna... try topping.”

Dean slumped away from Seth and sat on the edge of the bed, pouting out his reply. Seth crawled up behind him and draped his arms over his shoulders, teasing Dean's nipple with a pointer finger.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you, that's why.” A shiver went through Dean's body as he felt a series of nibbles land on his shoulder and neck. He tried to warn Seth away with a growl, but very few things could get Seth to detach himself from Dean.

Seth mumbled something into Dean's shoulder blade. Following an irritated plea to repeat himself, Seth enunciated, “It's okay if you're scared, I was scared the first time I bottomed.”

That little knot of rage tangled up Dean's stomach, as it always did when Seth was trying to get at him. There was nothing sincere in his voice, nothing that spoke of any real empathy. The smirk was audible in his voice. He was messing with Dean, mocking him. By getting angry, Dean was playing right into Seth's hands.

And he let himself do it.

“I'm not fucking scared.” With a growl he turned around and laid himself back on the bed, pulling Seth down on top of him by the shoulders. After running his tongue across Seth's lips he grumbled, “You're the one who's probably scared here. 'Cuz you know you can't do it as good as me.”

Seth caught Dean's lip between his teeth and pulled, drawing a loud grunt and maybe a little bit of blood from his teammate. He nearly rolled back over to pin Seth to the mattress. But he fought valiantly against that urge. As much as he couldn't admit it to Seth, he was sort of interested in trying it out. But he couldn't give up his illusion of control.

His ego could handle getting fucked in the ass. It's not like it would be his first time ever. He had some truly wild times on tour in Germany, and he got the impulse every now and then to play with himself in that manner.

But bottoming to Seth. That cocky bastard. So arrogant. So sure of himself.

So much like himself.

God dammit.

It'd be a tough pill to swallow. Maybe not necessarily a pill...

But anyway, letting him take him like that. Wasn't the easiest thing in the world to compromise with his pride.

Yet here he was, Seth Rollins in nothing but a pair of plaid boxer shorts, straddling his waist, looming over him with a giddy smile. Both of them rock-hard and ready for something to happen, and soon.

Seth seemed to notice the gears grinding away in Dean's head. While taking a moment to rub his ass against Dean's crotch, he quirked an eyebrow and smiled. “Do I look scared to you, Dean?”

Several types of frustration started roiling within Dean's stomach. It must have been clear from his expression, because Seth's grin only got bigger.

“How about this?” Seth trailed a finger down Dean's bare abdominal muscles, along the dents in his hips, down to the edge of his boxers. He ran a thumb against the tip of his fabric-covered cock and snickered at his reaction – a groan and a futile attempt at getting more by thrusting his waist up. Seth's hand slipped away at the last second. “We don't fuck tonight unless I'm topping you.”

Dean glared with even more venom at the man on top of him. “God FUCKING damn you, Seth.” He gave a sigh and collapsed against the bed, his arms spread to his sides. “Fucking fine, Jesus, you know I can't just jerk off after all this goddamned nonsense...”

“Yeah, of course I know.”

“Fuck you, just get in me already...”

“Nope. Not like this.”

He could have punched Seth in the face. His fist certainly clenched in preparation. But instead he took a deep breath and exhaled, “How, then, for fuck's sake?”

“You, riding me. That's how.”

Dean smirked, himself. Bottoming from the top. He could get away with this with his ego intact.

Without any further prompts, Seth leaped off of Dean and the bed. His boxers abandoned to the carpet, he sat himself down on the armchair in the corner. His arms draped over each of the rests, his lovely, hard manhood strongly at attention, his eyes begged – no, ordered – Dean to join him.

The curly-headed blond took a moment to scoff before stripping off his own underwear and slumping off of the bed. Grabbing a small bottle of lube and a condom from his suitcase, Dean padded over to the corner to meet Seth where he sat waiting. He offered the items with an outstretched hand, but Seth shook his head and pushed Dean's hand away.

“No, no. You do that for me, okay?”

A hot, furious breath flew out of Dean's nose. This self-important little bastard. But he couldn't ignore the aching stiffness between his legs, not when he'd gotten so riled up. Still gazing daggers straight into Seth's eyes, Dean indignantly thumped to his knees and ripped open the foil packet. Dean shook his head at that damn grin on Seth's smug face and rolled the damn condom over his smug cock.

Following a generous application of lubricant, Dean clambered into Seth's lap, avoiding his eye contact as he tried to get into the proper position. And then he heard Seth chuckling. 

This fucker. He had to pay.

Without giving himself time to adjust, stretch, nothing – Dean slammed himself down onto Seth's cock, arching his muscled back. It hurt, certainly. Not so much that he needed to stop. Not so much that he was causing himself any damage. But enough that he had to grit his teeth through it. Seth filled him up nicely, his dick the perfect length to prod at his prostate when inserted all the way. Tension was already beginning to fill his own cock, and he was sure the pain and pleasure were showing on his face.

Yet Seth didn't notice. He was busy moaning and squeezing his eyes shut in the sudden and unexpected ecstasy. Dean, with a pained grin and renewed vigor, slid Seth in and out of him at a steady pace.

“Like that, huh? Am I tight enough for ya, Seth?”

Seth was already gone. He made an attempt at opening his eyes, but they rolled back into his head when Dean reached forward and took one of Seth's small nipples between his thumb and forefinger, teasing and pulling, raising goosebumps all over his partner's body. Seth's pectorals tightened and tensed in response.

“Ggh, God, Dean, you're so--”

Dean cut him off with a full tongue kiss, a relentless attack on his mouth. Seth whimpered into his mouth as Dean started bouncing faster on top of him, his hole tightening around Seth with his own pleasure. In revenge for earlier, Dean took Seth's tongue in between his teeth and bit down softly, pulling a strangled whine from him.

He may have been bottoming, technically, but Dean had Seth firmly under his thumb.

But he couldn't ignore how quickly the pressure was building in his lower half. Dean's thighs were becoming weak, his cock was twitching wildly, and pleasure sparked all through that which was surrounding Seth's manhood. He had to end this soon if he was going to win this thing.

Well, they both would win. They were both having the times of their lives. But it was the principle of the thing.

“Seth,” Dean growled, voice low and deep in the way he knew would make Seth tremble. “How's it feel, huh? Me riding you? You like my tight asshole around your cock? You're so fucking hard, I can feel everything. Goddamn, it feels... so... good...” He chuckled out that last word, moaned in a shuddering breath.

The air snagged in the middle of Seth's throat. Almost out of control of himself, Seth bucked his hips upward into Dean, spasming intensely, releasing a moan with every thrust. Dean felt Seth's orgasm pump into him with each shaking, lip-biting, whining moment.

Dean couldn't contain himself at this sight. The worried furrow of Seth's brow as he reveled in the throes of passion, the beautiful noises flying out of his lungs, the insistent pressing of his cock against his prostate. Dean grabbed his own cock at the moment that the tension climaxed. His orgasm shot out all over Seth's defined chest and stomach, so powerful that a rope of cum even landed on his chin.

The broad-shouldered man in Seth's lap collapsed forward against him, both of them panting from the core of their chests. Dean nuzzled into the crook of Seth's neck and shoulder, muttering into his soft, sweat-soaked skin.

“Wh... what was that...?” Seth exhaled.

Dean grinned against Seth's neck. “Maybe I don't mind bottoming.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And part the second. Enjoy!

Dean Ambrose had always been a fitful sleeper. Even on the rare occasion he could get a full night's sleep, he would usually wake up with the blankets in a tangled mess at his feet, the pillows on the floor, his limbs splayed out at random. If he'd worn anything to bed, he wouldn't be in the morning.

That particular day, just shy of the sun rising, Dean awoke on his side, naked, with his boxers and t-shirt nowhere to be found, and the covers having disappeared entirely. Goosebumps had sprung up all over his body from the cold winter air, which had crept through the closed window into the hotel room. Dean groped about for anything to warm himself, but nothing was within his reach. 

On a typical night, he would at least be touching the blankets he'd thrown off himself in his slumber. But...

His bedmate for that night was somewhat of a blanket hog. 

Dean rolled himself over to find a gorgeous mane of hair peeking out from a tight roll of blankets. Grumbling and shivering, he attempted to dislodge the edge of the comforter from underneath his teammate, but he had no leverage in his current position.

Rather than put in the effort to try again, he pressed his nose into the back of Roman Reigns' hair and clung hard to him with his entire body, tossing one leg over his bedmate's hip. This finally got the big man to stir, letting out a deep sigh as he melted back into consciousness.

“Dean.”

The way Roman said his name, deep at the pit of his throat, rumbling from his lungs like the highest praise. It sank into Dean's ears and trickled down inside his chest, warming his muscles that now ached by default. Even in the biting cold, he was comforted whenever he could wake up to that voice murmuring in his ear.

As lovely as it was, he was still shivering while Roman was warm and comfortable. It couldn't stand.

“Fucking freezing over here,” Dean snarled into Roman's hair. 

Roman turned over and lifted the blankets, allowing Dean to slide under and settle in next to him. As Dean huddled next to his teammate for warmth, Roman explained, “Well, you kicked all the blankets off about ten minutes after you fell asleep. I figured you didn't want any.”

“Wasn't as cold when I went to bed, dammit.” Dean wrapped his arms and legs around Roman in an effort to warm himself further. It was then he realized that he wasn't the only one who was naked. He felt Roman's bronze, bare skin radiating heat into his own chest, as well as his exposed genitals brushing against Dean's thigh.

“When the fuck did you get naked, anyway?” Dean asked. He clearly remembered Roman wearing clothes last he saw him. A long-sleeve t-shirt, loose sweatpants... no underwear. Dean bit his lower lip at the thought and made an effort to rub his thigh in between Roman's legs.

“Mm,” he breathed, pushing back. “Easier to retain heat if you put bare skin against the covers.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor Science.” Dean rolled his eyes and retreated underneath the blankets. Muffled by the weight of the fabric, he went on, “You just wanted to be ready to go at anytime. I know you. You can't resist this.” In the dark he groped about with his hands, running his fingers against Roman's defined abs and strong thighs until he found his prize. Roman was already somewhat hard, yet he felt him recoil from his touch.

“Damn, your hands are cold,” he muttered.

Dean popped back up to look Roman in his striking gray eyes. “Whose fuckin' fault is that?”

They stared each other down, neither willing to give the other any leeway. If they had any conflict, it was that they couldn't concede a damn thing to each other.

But Roman eventually smiled and shook his head. “How about I warm you up and we just forget about it?”

“Yeah?” Dean grinned back. “How'd you plan on doing that?”

Roman reached behind Dean with one muscular arm and planted it on his buttock, squeezing firmly. “How about I make your ass mine? Isn't it about time, considering how often I'm saving it on a day-to-day basis?”

“Aw, fuck you. I save your ass just as often as you—Oh. Ooh.”

Roman's fingers had wandered, his middle finger exploring between his buttocks and teasing against his tight hole. He'd let only a select few special people play with him back there, Seth included. He knew how good it could feel. But normally he and Roman were far too much themselves to let the other in like that. Their egos usually wouldn't allow it. They both clung to their big-dog masculinity like a security blanket.

But spending so many nights grasping each other for dear life in the cold of weather and life on the endless road of their profession – it softened them to the idea. They had touched each other nearly everywhere, found themselves cuddling at night, relieving their tension in whatever way they could. 

Especially now that Seth was out of the immediate picture.

“Dean?”

Ugh. He said it again. Everything in Dean's pride was gnashing for him to take control of the situation. But his body ached in the cold for Roman. As much as he hated to admit it, it had for a long time. Nothing quite gave him the same feeling as being filled entirely by someone he trusted.

Even his heart, which he liked to let everyone believe had frozen shut long ago, had been begging to let this teammate... no, this friend, in.

“Hug me first,” he mumbled, looking away.

“Hm?”

“Just do it!” he growled, his face growing hot. 

Roman removed his hand from Dean's backside and wrapped both of his arms around his shoulders, cradling his head against his own shoulder. Dean took in his scent, of his weird-ass coconut hair treatment, the heavy fruit aroma of his deodorant, the indescribable and nearly imperceptible sense of the pheromones in his sweat. He allowed the warmth to sink in from Roman's body to his own. And he breathed in his trust, his kindness, the love of whatever sort they shared with each other.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, locking his eyes with Roman's. “Let's do it.” He then relaxed, expecting to be turned over onto his stomach for easier access.

But Roman gently lay Dean onto his back and climbed onto him, gazing straight into his eyes before leaning down to press their lips together. Immediately their energies converged and sparked, prickling the hair on the back of his neck. Dean's blood was already heating up, rushing through the whole of him, his manhood stiffening against Roman's thigh. Within moments their tongues were exploring the inside of the others' mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, Roman lined up his own uncut cock with Dean's, wrapping one big hand around the both of them. They moaned in unison, clashing hard against each other at two points. Dean was tensing all over, his muscles tightening in response and preparation. They pushed as much of their skin against each other as was physically possible, beginning to sweat with the friction between their members.

All of a sudden, Roman broke off the embrace and slipped off of Dean, leaving him cold again. He wanted to protest, but he knew he wouldn't be alone for long. Roman returned moments later, a condom already applied to his rock-hard dick and his hand in the process of covering it with lube.

Dean let out a few puffs of breath, staring into the ceiling, as he felt a slippery finger teasing against his hole. The area grew hot and yielding to Roman's hand, allowing in two of his fingers. Immediately they found Dean's sweet spot inside of him, stroking it and stretching him out in the process.

“Unf,” Dean grunted as he spread his legs for Roman. “How'd you get so good at this, dammit?”

Roman nuzzled into Dean's neck and chuckled, “Years of practice.”

“Who with?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

The fingers removed themselves, in what Dean first perceived as punishment for his curiosity, but something bigger was now poking its way in. Roman slowly, gently, steadily immersed himself into Dean, sending shuddering moans through the both of them. It seemed like ages – sweet, languishing ages – before Roman was fully inside of him, his pelvis resting right at the entrance.

Roman let it remain there, pushing himself up and penetrating him with a dazed stare. Dean couldn't ask for a better moment to suspend them both in time if he had the ability. The two of them fully wrapped up into each others' trust and connected at the very cores of themselves.

But Roman couldn't help himself.

He started the continuous ritual – pulled his cock out slowly and slid it back in, the friction sending wave after wave of pleasure throughout Dean's being. Groans and tiny whimpers flowed out of Dean's mouth outside of his power, as if being drawn out by each thrust into him. Roman was equally enraptured, letting out grunts and growls of effort as the time went on.

And as Dean stretched more and more, Roman increased his speed and intensity, as if he could hear Dean asking for more without needing to hear the words. The moans flew out louder with each passing minute. And soon, Roman's arms collapsed around Dean's head and their heaving chests clung together with the sweat of their work.

Roman began whispering into Dean's ear as he pounded against him, his words flaring out with his breaths against his cheek. “God damn, Dean, you're so tight. So fucking hot... So... Nngh. You're so fucking beautiful.”

It was nearly indiscernible from the heat on his cheeks, the sweat beading on his skin. But a single burning tear intermingled with the moisture on his face and disappeared into his hair. He blinked away any more before they could fall from his eyes, or tried to. His eyelids snapped shut as Roman started slamming himself against Dean, his cock thumping against his prostate, rendering him entirely helpless to whatever his emotions would throw at him.

Dean cried out into the early morning, the sounds cutting hot through the cold air. He was swearing up a storm, the pressure, the pleasure so intense and concentrated in his cock, his prostate, the pit of his stomach, his tensed thighs, he tasted blood from chewing against his bottom lip. His toes were numb from curling already. His arms slapped against Roman as he clung to his back, his fingernails raking, dragging hot, stinging lines onto his skin.

“Dean,” Roman groaned, panting against his neck. “Nnnngh, Dean...”

His own name in Roman's deep, rich voice echoing against his ears, Dean wrapped his legs around Roman's waist and thrust his own hips against him, trying to match his time well enough. In his state – undone, unwound, completely in pieces held together by Roman's arms and his voice, he could barely buck against him three times before his pleasure reached its limit.

At the very moment he let spasms course through him in preparation for orgasm, Roman let out a strangled gasp, nearly a whine, a desperate cry, as he shuddered into Dean for the very last thrusts that he could muster.

That was too much for him.

As Roman's cock pumped inside him, Dean's hole tightened even further, drawing out a series of wild moans from the man above him. And finally, shaking, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, stars blossoming behind his eyelids, his own orgasm jetted from him and splashed against Roman's stomach, dripping onto his own abdomen shortly thereafter.

As the two of them came down, Roman refused to move, still framing Dean's head with his arms and panting into his ear. Dean let the warmth between them sink into his bones as he breathed heavily and stared into the ceiling. His ears were burning, not just from the pleasure, but from the connection between them. Even when Roman pulled himself out, the link was unbroken, still strong as ever.

Dean was slipping into his exhaustion from the pure ecstasy. Still, before he thawed back to slumber, he heard Roman mumble once more.

“I hope you know this already... My ass is just as much yours as yours is mine.”

The End.


End file.
